The Patience of Sarah

Week #3 on the Island of Misfit Toys, aka the new mid-singles ward, went very well yesterday. I got to help put the cups in the sacrament trays and then fill them up with water, which is something I hadn't done for years. Sacrament meeting itself was also good, as we had a chance to listen to three of the four wives of the new bishopric (one, regrettably, was home sick and couldn't be there) speak to us.

As a theme, they chose inspiring women of the Old Testament, profiling such people as Eve, Miriam, and Esther. All great choices.

For some reason, however, I found myself thinking a lot about Sarah, née Sarai, aka Abraham's wife, throughout the day. You know, the woman who had to wait until age 90 to have a child? This was partly due to the fact that I am currently reading Orson Scott Card's biography of Sarah.

The other part? Well, being a member of a ward in which there are several women who have not yet married, as well as some who are divorced and perhaps even a few who are widowed, and all are age 31 or older—most of who (I can only surmise at this point) have not yet had the opportunity to experience the blessing of motherhood—you don't have to be a genius to figure out the significance of Sarah's story.

As I have been reading Card's book, I grow only more impressed with Sarah's faith and with the enormous amount of patience she must have developed over the course of that 90-year wait for a promised blessing to be fulfilled.

I also realize that there were some sitting in my midst yesterday who, for one reason or another, will not get to experience that blessing during this lifetime. It's hard to see with our natural eyes, for the present, why things like this happen.

Or, rather, in this instance, don't happen. At least, not yet.

I don't pretend to know the answers. I don't even know a small percentage of the answers. But what I do know of a surety is that, in the end, all will be made right for those who, like Sarah, faithfully strive to keep their covenants and who seek the blessings available to all those who, by birth or by adoption, belong to the house of Abraham.

It's a pretty great family to belong to. And we have a pretty, great, pretty great mother.

Speaking of which, I'm glad I also had the opportunity to give my own earthly mother a hug yesterday and to tell her I love her and that I'm grateful for all of the many, many, many things that she has done for me. I also realize that not everyone had that opportunity, either.

It's about Love . . . and Patience

I recently met two friends of Pure Prairie Girl's, a married couple who were high school sweethearts and who have now spent more than a decade together in wedded bliss. Unfortunately, during that same period of time, they have been unable to have children of their own.

Very soon, however, they will have finally come through all of the red tape and are preparing to adopt a baby who will become theirs as soon as he/she is born. They have an agreement with the birth mother and everything. They excitedly spoke of their plans and shared their joy about the at-long-last arrival of their delayed blessing of becoming parents.

It was an enlightening and a sobering experience for the Angry White Loner, who saw the other side of this coin of adoption a few months ago and made a post here on a similar subject on the blog back in May. In a way, this experience brought it all full circle for me.

At about the same time, the AWL finally got around to seeing the movie Prince of Egypt, notorious for Mariah Carey's/Whitney Houston's epic vocal cord battle during the closing credits, which he saw via Netflix. Took ya long enough, you might be thinking. That movie came out something like 15 years ago, didn't it?

Indeed, it did; but that is not the point here. I was reflecting on my experience of meeting this new couple as I watched the film. Moses, of course, was adopted into Egyptian royalty by the pharaoh's daughter. I already knew that part prior to seeing the movie. But another, larger, perhaps more important thought occurred to me:

I'm adopted, too.

Not literally, of course, as I definitely look physically like my father's son, hopefully share my mother's gentle nature, have my paternal grandmother's sense of humor (or so I'm told), etc. But I am adopted in that, according to a patriarchal blessing I received at age 18 and through covenants I have made, I am one with the House of Israel, a member of the tribe of Ephraim. And there are some amazing blessings promised to all those who are, literally or by adoption, of the House of Israel.

I suppose that the prevailing thought I had through all of this is that there is no real or important difference between being someone's literal offspring versus being adopted. The expectant parents I recently met are not going to love their child any less than caring and diligent parents who are able to conceive children through natural means, nor will the children grow to love their parents back with any less love or appreciation. Their many years of waiting, I'm sure, have taught them a good deal about patience and have prepared them for this moment.

The same certainly goes for the courageous young boy who spoke in my ward during yesterday's Primary program about his experience in foster care. There is are loving parents and a home for him, and all other foster kids, as well.

As someone who is both a literal son of God and of earthly "parents kind and dear," I'm grateful to belong to the families to which I belong. I have some pretty great brothers and sisters in them.

And as a credit card advertisement once touted, "Membership has its privileges."

Stand

Earlier this week when the U.S. Supreme Court overturned the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) and refused to rule on California's Proposition 8, essentially making gay marriage legal in that state.

The AWL has recently addressed the issue of gay marriage, but I will offer one last opinion on it today.

The day before the Supreme Court issued its judgment, a friend of mine (and a member of the Church) posted an opinion on Facebook in support of gay marriage. He said something to this effect: "I want it absolutely clear as to where I stand on this issue, no matter what the court rules tomorrow."

To that effect, I want to make it absolutely clear where I stand on this issue. I sustain the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles as prophets, seers, and revelators. They are the 15 people designated to act on our Savior's behalf in this mortal sphere. That goes for both them and their revelations - including and especially the Proclamation on the Family, which states "that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God." There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

I believe the Lord is less concerned with what the judgments of men can do, for they are imperfect, than how we react to them. He wants to know whom we stand with and, at some future day, where we stood while all of this was going on.

Elder Mark E. Petersen taught: "If we do know what is right, have we the courage to stand up for it, to defend virtue, to declare the validity of our faith, to oppose false teachings, and to fight the unpopular battle? . . . The time has come when we must take a far more firm and positive stand than ever before. . . . We must become vigorous and enthusiastic about living our religion, for God commands that we serve him with all our heart, with all our might, with all our strength, and with the very best of our intelligence. With him there can be no halfway measures. We must be fully for him or we may be classified with those who are against him" ("Where Do We Stand?", April 1980 general conference).

Like the child throwing the temper tantrum, we mortals can often lose sight of what we need to be truly and eternally happy and instead demand something lesser or counterfeit that we think we want or deserve. Nevertheless, our Heavenly Father knows what will make us happy, and neither He nor His servants will lead us astray.

That being said, I have friends who struggle with same-sex attraction, and I believe that their struggle is a genuine and a difficult one. I believe that it is always a good choice to love these people regardless of the choices they make and that we can disagree without becoming disagreeable when it comes to discussing matters such opposition to gay marriage. Tolerance is not acceptance, and tolerance is also a two-way street.

It's about Love . . . and Courage

On Saturday evening, members of the Improvables, myself included, were invited to perform for Common Bonds, a local group sponsored and supported by LDS Family Services in Centerville. Though we are frequently hired to do improv shows away from our home turf, we soon found out that it would be no ordinary performance.

Common Bonds, as it turns out, is a group of mothers who, at one point or another in their lives, gave up a child or children for adoption. On the Saturday before Mothers' Day each year, they meet together as a show of support for one another and the difficult but important choices they have each made: to give these children a better life than they could have ever done at the time the children were placed for adoption.

Many of the mothers were unmarried when they made this difficult decision. A few were married but were in abusive relationships and preferred not to bring children into that sort of environment. There was even one expectant mother several months pregnant, and she planned to place her child for adoption. Each had an amazing story to tell, and it was clear that they were all motivated by a great deal of love, as well as a significant amount of prayer and thought, in their actions.

I gained a great deal of respect for these women as they shared their stories. It was a privilege to perform for them, and my co-actors and I had a great time in doing so.

Afterward, I had the chance to speak with a gentleman who was there as an adviser to the group, and I thanked him for the invitation for us to be there. He reminded me of another important quality that each of these women possesses: courage.

It certainly took courage for them to love their babies enough to let them go so that they could have better lives. It took courage for them to deal with an unplanned and an embarrassing situation and to make the very best of things. It also takes courage for them to meet together now and to stand for a very important cause.

I should also be sure to point out that those mothers who make the very difficult decision to keep and raise their children are no less loving or courageous.

For many of the mothers who were at Saturday's event, fortunately, there is a happy ending. Many of them were there with their fiancés and/or spouses and have gone on to have other children that they've been able to raise. There was also a mother who has adopted three children of her own.

It was one Mothers' Day holiday that I won't soon forget. Happy (belated) Mothers' Day to my own "angel mother" and to all of the great moms out there.